


Interlude

by GendryVonTeese



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Wolves, F/M, Friendship, Guns, Military, Mixed Martial Arts, On the Run, Protectiveness, Romance, Scenting, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Stark Wolves, Weapons, Wolf Pack, Wolf Scenting, buckle up bbys, general bad assery, still an arya/gendry story so don't expect a psychological thriller, throw some blood and sweat in there too, wolf hunters, yeah take a wild guess who that tag is for, yes this is a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GendryVonTeese/pseuds/GendryVonTeese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wolf trait was part of being a Stark. It was a responsibility. It was a gift. A gift that skipped every other birth in the family. It was a tradition passed down from generation to generation.</p><p>But after an incident in the woods leaves Arya Stark injured and bloody, the Starks find their tradition reaching its boiling point. The solution? Splitting up and going into hiding, with nothing to go on but envelopes with the itinerary to guide them along the way. To keep their scents from being tracked, each of the Stark wolves must separate from each other for maximum security. And it just so happens that Gendry Waters has been the least exposed to Arya's scent, making him the ideal candidate to accompany Arya out of the country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hunt You Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Okay, so I just wanted to say a few things before we begin:
> 
> I love the dynamics between stories that call for someone needing protection and someone doing that protection. It's a trope, sue me. I'm a big sucker for it.
> 
> I know that other wolf fics exist, and trust me, I'm just as much a fan of them as you are. I just wanted to create something different - something that deals you a different set of cards. I wanted to incorporate stuff that influenced me as a writer, while at the same time toying with Arya and Gendry's characterization. I write alot of comedy and romance, but at heart I'm a big action junky. I love action films. That being said, yes, there are also a few Arya/Gendry action fics that I constantly find myself reading over and over again. And what I like about them is that not one of them is truly the same. And that's what I love about this pairing. When action is incorporated in Arya/Gendry fics, the story doesn't box in on itself. Every author has a way of expanding the story in different ways because there is just so much potential.
> 
> This isn't gonna get too hardcore, but action is going to be the backbone for a while. 
> 
> I like modern au stories, and I like writing them. I know I'm not fabulous at writing (there are people who write for this pairing that leave me in a dazed state ok) but I just wanted to try this. It may not be your cup of tea and that's fine, so thanks for checking it out regardless :)
> 
> As far as inspiration goes, movies with runaway characters, fighting, kidnapping, and military influences are to blame. I wanted to bring a taste of the idea behind Chasing Liberty and merge it with the structure and pace of The Transporter, and add a little drop of the seriousness and action of The Bourne Identity. Especially for Gendry's character.
> 
> I wanna say this is canon. Some of you might not thing it is; but to be honest, this world calls for different versions of Arya and Gendry. I wanted to write something more realistic... I wanted characters that lived in a modern world while still interacting canonically. They will both be growing into their characters. It's slow building at first, but their potential will get them there, I promise! :)

Blood was rushing through her ears. The only thing keeping her upright was Jory’s hold on the back of her shirt collar, dragging her as they ran. She was wearing one of Jon’s old rugby shirts, the hem ragged and torn from years of use. Arya didn’t have to look down to see how the thick white and red horizontal stripes of the shirt were now covered in grass stains, dirt smears, and angry red blotches.  The pain in her hip was starting to simmer and dissolve, but she didn’t have the energy to feel alarmed about it.

Her vision was blurry. Her eyes felt numb behind her eyelids.

Jory’s frantic breathing lead Arya to keep running, keep moving, through the forest.

“Keep your eyes open!” he all but shouted in her ear.

Her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and the tugging Jory was doing on her neck wasn’t helping. The wound on her hip was still seeping blood because she could feel the wetness running down her bare legs. But she couldn’t feel the bullet anymore. She couldn’t feel the pain anymore. She couldn’t feel a thing. Arya truly tried to keep her eyes open for him, knowing that slipping into unconsciousness wasn’t a good thing for her to do. Her legs were buzzing, like they weren’t hers anymore.

She tripped on a few roots while they panted and sprinted out of the woods, a mess of limbs and blood and branches swinging every which way. The afternoon sun was almost gone, the forest transitioning into that time of day between light and dark. The perspiration was heavy down her neck, her back, all over her body. She felt lifeless and filthy, her own blood dried up into the cracks of her knuckles and under her fingernails.

How Jory got her to the back porch of the Stark Manor was nothing short of a miracle, because Arya’s body decided to stumble and fall slack into Jory and she passed out just in time for her father to come barging out through the doors of their back yard.

 

***

She woke up feeling like the gunshot in her hip was nothing but a bad dream. She stilled for moment, and then blinked a few times before she remembered that this wasn’t a bad dream, it was her reality. Her head felt better, heavy still, but healing. Her body felt sore, like she ran through woods for three days straight. The bed was warm. There was gauze and medical tape wrapped around her hip. They had taken the bullet out. She glided her hand across the area and winced.

She was in the guest room on the first floor, down the hallway from the kitchen. She couldn’t remember how she got inside the house, or how they got her on the bed. The only thing she could bring back to memory was her father’s look of sheer panic as he ran out of the house.

Arya must have slept for a few hours, because night had come quick. Her eyes searched for a clock in the darkness. It was 8pm.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, grabbed a pair of sweatpants out of a laundry basket and slid them on with extreme caution. When they cleaned her up, they took the rugby shirt off of her and put her in something that Arya guessed to be white. She was wearing a soft zip-up hoodie with nothing underneath. She gripped the fabric. It smelled like Sansa.

After a few heaving breaths, she took baby steps out of the room. Feeling sensitive still, she didn’t turn on any lights in the room or in the hallway. Ironically, once she was walking through the corridor to find her family, she discovered that all the house lights were also turned off, except for the big shimmering chandelier that was hanging above the kitchen area. The dim lighting of the room flickered mesmerizingly off all the crystal rectangles that dangled from the chandelier’s enormous structure.

“We don’t have a choice anymore,” Ned Stark said to no one in particular. His voice came from a low, dark rumbling in his chest. It was silent for a few seconds before Robb rubbed his eyes.

 “That’s not-“

 The floor creaked when she got close enough. Robb lost all thought when his worried eyes landed on his sister. Everyone at the table turned slowly to look at Arya, who was leaning half her body against the doorframe a few meters from the table. Their faces instantly relaxed, but the tension did not disappear from their faces. She inhaled and let out a big sigh, taking in the sight of everyone in front of her.

Robb was sitting across from her father, both of them looking completely on edge. Robb looked like he’d cooled down a bit. They had probably been arguing for a while now; Arya could sense it. Her brother was wearing the look he always wore when he felt defeated and had given up trying to get through to Ned Stark.

Next to Robb was Bran, who was breathing slowly and trying to stay calm. He looked like he’d been thinking too hard. Probably wondering how to make sense of their situation. Her mother had been staring into her lap with a mug of what smelt like chamomile. Jon was on the other opposite end of the large table, standing up with both fists propped up against the mahogany, his eyebrows knit together in anger and frustration. When Arya met his eyes, he looked absolutely pained and relieved at the same time. Two of her father’s guards were standing by the window, behind Jon, keeping a lookout.

Sansa was sitting next to her father, and had been staring blankly into space. She looked like she had been trying not to cry, her eyes strained. Her hands were clasped together around Rickon who sat in her lap. There was another guard standing behind Sansa, and two of her family’s house maids were standing idle against the wall as well.

Even Gendry was here.

“Arya.”

She looked right into the eyes of her father, and she knew. She knew everything had gone to shit.

Both of her parents had made the motion to rise but it was Catelyn Stark who got up hastily and rushed to her. Arya’s head was cradled into her mother’s chest, but she couldn’t decipher if it was for what had already happened, or for what was yet to come.

She felt her father’s arms around her, guiding her to the table.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Arya responded. But somehow she didn’t feel like it made much difference.

Robb gave up his seat to Arya, grabbing her hand to help her. She winced in pain as she sat. Apparently, it was easier to stand up than it was to sit down when you’d been shot in the hip.

The silence in the room hung thick, and she wanted to know what was going on, what everyone was talking about, but her head was still throbbing. There was no point in asking questions about something that was going to be explained to her soon enough. Her chest felt full and heavy, like her body knew that nothing about this was being taken lightly.

She knew there were repercussions for what had happened a few hours ago, but she honestly didn’t know what to expect. Well, now she knew, because she was in a room full of her entire family and those that had been servicing her family for the past ten years. Half of which Arya never saw in the same room together at any given time. At least not in the past two years.  Jon and Robb didn’t live here anymore and were barely around in July, Sansa was at university taking her summer classes, and her father was no longer in the manor during the day.

It took her a second to figure out exactly who was missing, which lead her to speak. “It was a hunter, wasn’t it?” her tone implying that she wasn’t actually asking. Her voice cut the silence at the table open like a knife. No one moved.

And it was then that Jory came barging into the room, a large duffle bag in one hand and his cell phone in the other. Everyone was forced to avert their attention to him as he hauled the duffle bag onto the dining table.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he started, planting his hands down firmly on the table. “I’m going to explain exactly what it is we’re doing and how we’re going to go about doing it. Then we’re all going to agree with minimal interruptions. And then, I will write down and make a copy of the itinerary we’re going to need, and _you will not lose it_.”

Arya stiffened. “What is this?” She felt her chest constrict as she locked eyes with Sansa across the table. Her sister seemed to have a clearer idea of what was going on than she did, because her face had changed completely. Sansa knit her eyebrows together, and pursed her lips.  But she didn’t say anything, probably assuming it wasn’t her place to explain what was happening. While Jory unzipped the duffle bag and began unloading equipment with his usual stoicism, Arya looked around at all her siblings. Not one of them seemed surprised. Her father opened his mouth to say something, but it was Jon who spoke.

“Yes.”

Arya turned her head to look at him. He stared strongly back at her. “It was a hunter.”

Soft clanking was coming from the objects Jory was unloading out onto the table. A dozen different cell phones, cards, passports, currencies of money…

Arya shook her head to herself, not understanding. She may have broken the rules once and a while regarding when to go into the forest, and maybe the boundary lines had been blurred once too often, but she was careful. She was always careful. “But… I didn’t-“

Robb put a hand on her shoulder, sensing her distress. “There was absolutely no trail that could have lead just one hunter to you, Arya. This was the doing of a team.”

She sat there trying to process the information. There were gadgets and booklets and strange looking equipment all over her dining table, and her entire family was in a panic.

What had she done?

“You were running in the forest and you must have sensed them. They shot you with a long distance rifle, using a hunter’s bullet, but my guess is that you were too fast for them, because it went into your hip instead,” Jory informed her, his eyes never looking up. It was always a thing Jory did, multitask with minimal verbal communication. He took his cell phone out and made a quick phone call.

Arya had a nostalgic feeling that what he told her was right, but she before she could ask him anything, her father grabbed her hand.  “They tried to track you and hunt you down,” he said, looking straight into Arya’s eyes. “Whether they knew who you were or not, they were definitely hunting for something part human. Robb and I have discussed all the possibilities and I’ve tried connecting the dots… but we can’t know anything for certain just yet. But for now, to be safe, we’re going to split up for several days and meet back at our designated safe house.”

Arya remembered her father mentioning the safe house once or twice in passing, years ago. It was around the same time he explained just exactly what kind of traits the Starks managed to pass down from generation to generation, for the past hundred years.

“What do you mean by split up?” She could sense Robb stiffen behind her. He didn’t like this plan.

“Your father and I discussed this, and it seems that it’s in our best interest to separate those of you with the ability to shift into small traveling groups. We can’t be certain what these hunters’ motives are just yet, and if they continue trying to track you, they’ll be lead directly to the house by early morning,” Arya’s mother replied. “There is an underlying danger that comes with shifting into the wild forest, and now that our circumstances have changed, your father and I cannot risk anything happening to any of you if we stay.” She paused, and sighed deeply. “We are leaving the country. Once Jory gives us what we need, and explains to you all what is going on, we’ll finalize and confirm who goes where.”

 

There were so many questions Arya still had swimming in her head, but she didn’t know where to start. She felt confused but hollow at the same time, like everything was happening too fast in front of her. It almost didn’t feel real. And the guilt that was lingering inside her chest was making it difficult for her to decipher exactly how she felt about this whole situation.

“Track me,” she repeated to herself. They had tried to shoot her dead, and missed. It was coming back to Arya in small fragments. She began to backpedal, and zoned out Jory’s voice that told everyone Yoren and Uncle Benjen were on their way.

Back in those woods… she had shifted back into her human form when she was running, and then the pain had gotten worse and worse. There was so much blood... She looked down at her hands briefly, remembering the way the blood made her hands sticky.

She couldn’t remember much else. The house was empty when she left for the forest, save for Bran who was upstairs reading and Rickon who was with the maid. It was after lunch, and she had such a desire to go for a run, that she didn’t think anyone would notice if she went out on her own. She hadn’t even told Jory. When her parents weren’t in the manor, _he_ was the one left in charge. And as usual, Arya had gone off to do what she wanted without consulting him first.

Jory must have heard the shot… must have gone searching. She remembered tripping on a tree root when she was on foot, covered in blood and looking for her clothing. In that small amount of time after getting shot, she must have bolted for a few miles before she transitioned back into her human form, then had quickly found her garments, and then ran another mile and a half towards the property before Jory found her and ran straight for her.

 “Jory said you had left a bit of a blood trail. Fortunately, thank the old gods, it rained while you slept,” Her father informed her, his voice started to crack from soreness. “It’ll buy us some time to get ourselves ready.”

Jory started rearranging everything on the table in an organized manner. “We won’t have long,” he quipped, tossing the empty duffle bag to the side on the floor somewhere. “If they try tracking you now, they won’t get far. Your scent’s been skewed with the downpour. But it’ll be dried up by early morning, and they won’t hesitate to approach the woodland again soon.”

Arya nodded slowly in understanding.

Ned Stark stared at his daughter’s blank face. “We have to assume the worst. The safety of this family is top priority. I know it’s quite a lot for you to wake up to, but we don’t have any other options. They know your scent, Arya. The danger that implies is too grave. We have a few hours to get ready and leave until… Jory will explain everything, and it’ll be easy. It’ll all be over soon.” He squeezed her hand and she automatically squeezed it back.

Jory tossed everybody a new and improved passport with new identities. “Every Stark in this room gets one of these. And these documents are to be seen by no one, do you hear me? If you’re stuck and have absolutely no other choice, then save them just for those extreme emergencies. But they are only a precaution.”

“But aren’t our names changed?” Bran asked, opening his passport.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sansa said to him, slowly catching on. “We can’t be hiding if the wrong people see what we look like. If someone here sees us and knows who we are, and finds these passports, they’ll know it’s all a scam.”

“Which is exactly why you need to keep them in a safe place. They can only help you once you are _out_ of the country. Memorize your names and think of some other place to call home, because once you leave this house you are going to become another person. ”

Jon narrowed his eyes and tried to read his alias. He absorbed the information quickly and with little effort. Things like this were probably common for him. Maybe he wouldn’t have a hard time adjusting. He could treat it like just another job. Arya was slightly envious of him as she took in her brother’s strength.

Jon knew when he was fourteen that he wanted to be like Uncle Benjen, and work in Special Forces. They came from a family of very involved soldiers; Ned had been a military sergeant years ago, and just recently Robb became one himself, following in his father’s footsteps.

It was only just that Jon wanted to prove his worth at a young age. Every summer he practiced and practiced until he perfected a new skill. He asked his Uncle Benjen what they were looking for, what kind of bar he had to reach in order to be a blimp on their radar. And he must have given him sound advice, because Jon had been recruited at eighteen. There was a division created just for people his age. Special Forces put him through their training program for an additional three years. That’s where he met Gendry. And that’s when he stopped coming home in the summers – they were when he worked, his did jobs, saved people. He’d pop in about once a month when he had the time, and he’d made the habit of bringing Gendry with him to the manor. They were partners in the same unit, and Gendry didn’t have any other family.

Jon never talked about what exactly he did in Special Forces, never mentioned a steak out or any of his operations to the family, but when he was alone with Arya, he would let himself discuss it with her and listen to her questions. And answer them truthfully. Arya loved that.

 “Yoren is coming with the itineraries. He’s got it down to the grid. Make sure you follow them once you leave here. These phones,” Jory held up a few of them, “have disposable cards. Once you finish talking on the phone, you crush it. You get one card a week. Yoren’s going to give you one envelope to start, with one card inside and directions to find the next envelope. You can only call the next person on your list at a specific time once you reach a specific place.”

“And how will they follow his directions? Where do they lead?” Catelyn Stark did not try to hide her confusion.

Arya, knowing exactly how Yoren and Jory worked, could have answered her mother’s question herself.

Jory exhaled. “There are care takers across Europe, and in some places of the world, that you will remember to have sworn fealty to you. Once we leave here, your children will open the envelopes, and go to those specific locations. Once they wait for the specific time, they call whoever is on the list. It could be you, or another Stark. Those are the only times they may come in contact with you. Once their calls end they have to make sure their call is untraceable, so they’ll need to take the card out of the phone and crush it. Then read the rest of the directions in the envelope.” He met the eyes of all the Stark children and added, “You’ll be meeting with those who hold a sincere loyalty for the Starks. They’ll be the ones keeping guard of the next envelope.”

Arya’s father had a sudden flash of recognition showing on his face. He knew exactly which loyalists Jory was talking about. The pieces were starting to click, even for Arya herself.

“You’ll receive three envelopes that will lead to your final caretaker. Once you reach that destination, you must stay there for further instruction. From that point it’ll be gray area. So let’s focus on getting there first, shall we?”

“So we stay idle until its okay to meet up again, at the safe house,” Robb nodded. Out of understanding? Out of agreement? Because everything was happening too fast and Arya’s head started to hurt again. Didn’t her father say this would take a few days? Now it was _weeks?_

“Yes.” Jory passed out a few more sheets of information before he got to the money displayed before him. “Now, as your mother told you all, you’ll be separated in groups for this. It’s best to put one wolf in each group and stay as far away from each other as possible. Spread yourselves thin. Less wolf scenting, less trails for the hunters to follow. “

Who exactly would go to this much trouble to find her? Or any of them? Her father told her that they may not know she was a Stark wolf, but those hunters were predators. They were predators looking for someone who shifted, someone who had the bite, or the gift. They were aware of what they were doing. Would they really try to find the other Stark wolves if they had gotten to her?

Arya closed her eyes and propped her head up on her hands. She covered her eyelids with her palms and swallowed hard. She felt Robb’s hand on her back.

“I think we should wait for Benjen and Yoren, first,” she heard her mother say.

There were a few shared whispers between the two. Then her father’s voice said strongly, “We’ll fly straight there. Valkov will be our host. He has a safe place for the two of us in Moscow.”

“Ned, Rickon is still so young, he can’t transition by himself.”

“You must let him go, Cat. Listen to me when I say that he will be safer with my brother than with us.”

Arya blinked, lifting her head up to see six year old Rickon Stark still sleeping against Sansa. He was still so young when he started to sign. When Arya found him shivering, naked outside from shifting back, that’s when she ran back in the house to tell her father that Rickon was given the gift. He carried the Stark gene (that now made him a potential threat, thanks to Arya).

Yoren and Uncle Benjen arrived moments later, and both immediately got down to business. Uncle Benjen hugged and greeted them all, even Gendry, before grabbing a chair and sitting next to Ned. They shared a quick glance with each other before sixty year old Yoren got impatient.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s get to these things.” Yoren waved the envelopes with absolutely no enthusiasm. He handed them out as Jory took the list from Catelyn Stark’s hands and read off the names.

“First things first, Ned and Catelyn, you’ll be going to Moscow. Without Rickon. Ned said Valkov agreed to keep you in hiding, so he’ll be expecting you at the airport when you land. Rickon will be left with Jon and Benjen.”

An unfathomable look was bestowed upon Catelyn’s features, but she said nothing.

Jory turned to Jon and grabbed the stack of Yen off the table to give to him. “The three of you will be going to Kyoto.” Yoren tossed Jon his envelope from across the table. Neither of them would have a problem adapting. Jon and Uncle Benjen both knew how to speak Japanese.

“Robb, Bran, and Sansa, you’re with me. We’ll be going to Mendoza, Argentina. I know the guy who’ll be hosting us, and he has a wolf of his own living with him already. Shouldn’t be a problem.” Jory grabbed the stack of pesos and gave half of it to Robb to hold onto.

That took care of Robb and Rickon…

Arya’s eyes found Gendry’s at the end of the table, where he stood next to Jon with his arms crossed.

“Arya, you’ll be going with Gendry to Lisbon. Out of everyone in this room he’s been around you the least, and he doesn’t carry your scent. He’s the best choice to disguise your trail.”

Gendry’s jaw locked as Yoren came from behind him and smacked the envelope against his arm. He grabbed it without breaking eye contact. His face looked like Jon’s; accepting and unwavering.

It just came to her attention that Gendry probably already knew that this was going to happen, that he would be traveling with Arya. It made perfect sense now.

Arya and Gendry gave each other slight nods before Jory gave her the stack of Euros.

Gendry went through the same training Jon went through; he was a valid choice. He was skilled in numerous kinds of hand-to-hand combat, whereas Arya’s occasional kick-boxing didn’t even compare. Not only could he hide her scent from trackers, but his body build itself could protect Arya from just about anything. Who was going to notice her when her head barely grazed his chin? Arya was sure he could speak Portugese, as well. She knew very little. She tried it back in her first year but there was no one at home to speak with, and Jon was never around, so it was one of those things that just went away.

Now her family had to do that with themselves.

Arya’s eyes fell on the dark wood of the dining table in front of her, and she didn’t have the willpower to keep listening. Her ears and her mind were alert, but her body wasn’t. Yoren started to yammer on about the specific things they needed to take with them and the provided time it would take to get to each pit stop.

Her siblings were going to play scavenger hunt all across these different countries. Her mother and father were flying directly to Russia. They were leaving the house. They were going to be in hiding.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gendry grab a pistol out of Uncle Benjen’s hand.

Rickon was lolling his head forward, slowly waking up.

Her father was talking to Robb about his shifting.

“We’re all flying to our countries,” Jory announced. “Our plane tickets are in the envelopes.”

They were _leaving._

“Except you.” He turned to Arya and pointed directly at her. “You don’t have an ocean separating you from your host, and getting on a plane would be too risky, so-”

“I’ll have to take us there,” Gendry finished for him.

Jory nodded. “You’ll take the train and get off in Paris, and then make your rounds down to Lisbon.”

Arya inhaled a big breath, and exhaled quietly. She could do this. It wasn’t complicated. It was just a set of directions to follow. There was nothing uncomfortable about Gendry although traveling with him was a different story. But they’d get over it. She wasn’t some little girl who needed to be watched 24/7 and she most definitely held her own when she was in her wolf form. If anything, she could be protecting Gendry. There was nothing about this to complain about, not that there was any room for it.

The next half hour was a blur. Sansa helped her up the stairs to their room, while everyone else rushed off to their own bedrooms to pack. They needed to leave as quickly as possible, Yoren had shouted. There was no more time for questions or doubts. Everyone just had to keep moving. It was all too much to grasp but no one had the luxury to think about it for too long.

Arya changed out of her clothes and eased into a pair of jeans, slid into a baggy black tank, put a dark red zip up hoodie on top, and grabbed her beanie off of her nightstand. She put it on and tucked all her hair into it. When she finished packing her stuff, she zipped up her bag and she turned to Sansa. Her sister’s face was poised, but nothing could stop the worry that revealed itself in her eyes.

They hugged tightly for a minute before they left the room. Everything felt like it was on mute with every step she took down the stairs. Her arm was slung around Sansa’s shoulders, but even with her help she felt like it wasn’t enough to lift her feet off the ground. Her leg felt heavy, and her hip started to buzz. She felt weird. Tired all of a sudden, and a little nauseous. But she didn’t let it show.

Her family stood there ready when she made it to the living room. Hugs, kisses, and small words of encouragement were shared. Arya and Robb could sense how everyone was feeling. They all could. Being born with the wolf trait meant having a heightened sense of awareness, amongst other primal instincts. She could smell the uncertainty and the hope, just like Robb could.

Her mother hugged her strongly.

“We will do what we must.”

Rickon was awake now, holding onto Uncle Benjen’s hand. He must have felt it too. Senses can appear strong when you’re still getting used to them. Arya hugged him goodbye, hoping that he’d learn to adjust and let go of his wolf senses a bit. They could make young ones like him restless at times like this.

Arya got around to everyone in the room, including her father, who kissed her forehead and held her for a good minute, but said nothing. There was nothing simple left to say.

And then Arya got to Jon, and he wrapped his arms around her small frame and lifted her gently off the ground. She clung to him, and shut her eyes. She wished he could leave with them.

“Do you have the army knife I gave you?” He whispered into her ear.

“Of course.”

“Good. Be careful.”

Each member of the Stark family slowly dissipated out the door. It was dark out, and the streetlights flickered on. Arya felt like she had to say something to Jory, and made to turn around. He ended up being right there behind her. He grabbed onto her arm.

“Don’t get lost, kid. Keep your eyes open. Gendry Waters maybe the best thing we got, but he’s still only human. Just a man. Remember that. For the both of you.”

Arya barely had time to comment. She was ushered out of there and into the car, Jory’s eyes never leaving hers.

 

 

 


	2. Blood On The Carpet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys! Here it is! Sorry for the slightly long wait. I think that I'll be updating this story every few weeks or so. I'm bendmegendry on tumblr so check that for updates or for any news regarding my fics. Sorry if there are any typos! I try my best to catch them all!
> 
> :)

 “Turn left.”

Gendry silently followed the old man’s demands while Arya tried to find a comfortable position in the backseat that didn’t put pressure on her wound. It had been a half hour since they’d left the Stark Manor, and the car ride had given Arya some much needed space.

If she thought about it for too long, then the guilt would start punching her in the gut. But she was good at controlling herself; at detecting her weakest links and getting rid of them. These feelings weren’t going to help her now. It was time to adapt.

So she isolated herself from Gendry and Yoren for the time being, and quietly put some things in order in head.

They were going to get on the train. It was going to take them to Paris.  Then they’d go through the information in the envelope and follow the directions to their next host, until they reached their caretaker in Portugal. The flashlight was in her bag, along with Jon’s pocketknife and the 6,000 Euros. All of Jory’s trinkets and weapons were stashed in the side pocket of Gendry’s bag in the trunk.

She repeated the information to herself, determined to memorize where everyone in her family was headed. Moscow, Kyoto, Mendoza; tried to remember how her father taught her to retain information. How he’d drill her with data. Sansa was always good with proposition and agenda. But it was working under pressure, critical last minute thinking, that Arya could do better than anyone. The games of logic versus deceit. The games where your reflexes were your only weapon. Those were the exercises Arya would win every time.

“Drive down to that light, make another left,” Yoren croaked.

Gendry kept his eyes on the road. “How close are we? I don’t remember it being this far.”

Yoren narrowed his eyes at the driver before speaking. “Two miles. We took the long way. Less obvious. We can’t have people knowing where you’re going.”

Yoren was always more paranoid than the rest of them, Arya thought.

She gripped the sides of both front seats and pulled herself forward between the two men, practically sitting on top of the center console. “Who would be following us?” She didn’t know why she said it. She knew she wouldn’t get a direct answer.

He spared Arya a curt glance. “At the moment that’s the last thing you should be worryin’ about. Keep track o’ that money and don’t lose that envelope, because you won’t have me to help you out for much longer. Once you get on that train the two o’ you are on your own.” Leaning back in his seat, Yoren closed his mouth and exhaled out of his nose.

Gendry, instead of turning to face her, caught her eye in the rearview mirror instead, and made the left turn into the underground tunnel.

The lights from all the opposing traffic bounced off of the car windows. The sounds of the high-speed cars swooshing and zooming past them felt loud in her ears.

“How long is the train ride?” she asked Yoren when they made it out of the tunnel.

“Give or take three hours,” Gendry responded for him.

She turned her head slightly in Gendry’s direction, trying to read his face, but his eyes stayed on the road. She finally slid back into her seat quietly.

It was odd for Arya to not think about it before, considering the circumstances, but she had never been alone with Gendry for that long. And now she was going to be spending a few weeks with him. She felt a small twinge of uncertainty all of a sudden. Three weeks was a lot of time. Especially when you were in hiding.

What if they got sick of each other?

Arya almost scoffed at her herself for thinking about something so unimportant when her real focus should have been on who had them driving to this train station in the first place.

She looked out of the window while Gendry drove. They were passing through the town square. There were people filling up most of the patio tables outside of a restaurant, enjoying their drinks. The fountain across the street was still on and the water was dyed blue tonight. There was a couple holding hands, laughing at the park gates. The bright street lights where glowing, giving life to the city of Winterfell. She felt a pinch of sadness knowing she’d be leaving it behind. The city in the night time was her favorite.

Soft droplets of water started to thump against the car.

“Make a right at the third light.”

A few minutes later, Gendry turned into the train station parking lot.

Yoren started to say something but Arya zoned out again. Her eyes focused on a silver car that had entered the parking lot behind them. She didn’t know if it was her wolf senses or what, but she felt drawn to it.

Her eyes followed it as it traveled to the far end of the station. She turned her neck around and peered through the backseat windshield to get a better look. The silver car backed into one of the parking spots, and stood still. Like it was waiting. The driver shut the car off, but kept the headlights on, and it was all too familiar to her. She felt strange looking at it. Her eyebrows crinkled, trying to remember where she had seen the car before.

Arya was so focused on what she was looking at that she didn’t hear Yoren snapping at her when Gendry finally parked the car.

Yoren groggily twisted his body around to give her a proper complaint. When he found her looking out of the backseat windshield, he squinted through the wet glass to see what she was staring at.

When Arya looked back at Yoren his entire face changed. His arm reached for Arya’s beanie and he tugged it lower over her forehead.

“You’re not Arya anymore, you’re Arry,” he told her roughly. “And that’s what it’ll say on that passport. Keep that hat on and zip that sweatshirt all the way up.”

“Wait a minute-“

He looked Gendry right in the eyes. “ _Get her on that train_.”

“Hold on!” She shouted, pulling herself forward in between the two seats again, moving too quickly. She swallowed the sudden pain that shot down her leg. “I want to know! Yoren, what’s going on?” Her eyes moved back and forth between the two of them. Everything was too relaxed and too tense at the same time.

The old man just exhaled through his nose again. His face barely gave anything away. Arya continued to stare at him. She was so close to his face, she could count his wrinkles.

Yoren had been doing… whatever this was, for a long time, which meant he knew things other people didn’t. He had the ability to see what others couldn’t. It was borderline scary, but Yoren could retain knowledge like a national library. She knew he was purposefully keeping them in the dark and Arya was having none of it. Her father was out there and Jory was out there and everyone working for her father was out there trying to figure out who shot her with a hunter’s rifle while Yoren was keeping information to himself. And Arya knew what Yoren looked like when he was connecting the dots in his head. He had a hunch already. She knew he did. He was figuring something out, she could see it in his mannerisms, in his voice. And he wasn’t ready to give any of it up. Because giving it up could put them in even more potential danger.

Ever since she stepped foot into the car, every question she had asked had somehow dissipated before she could get the words out. She felt too mellow for it to feel genuine, and it made her nervous. It wasn’t in her nature to back down. It felt strange to her. But when she tried to push Yoren further her voice came out surprisingly small.

“You’re here to help us, aren’t you?”

The guilt was creeping up on her again.

Yoren waited a while before he spoke. “There are things in this world that not everyone is ready to come to terms with. Not ready to understand.” His eyes bore into hers. “And there are things in this world that you’ll have to find out about on your own, because _I’m_ not here to give you all the answers. The truth is, I don’t got ‘em. _I’m_ here to make sure you get on that fucking train. Now get out of the car.”

She had to force herself not to scream at him.

The rain was pouring down hard as all three of them quickly got out of the car,  Arya blinking back the heavy drops of water falling on her face. Her hand automatically adjusted the beanie on her head. She double checked to make sure her hair was tucked in well.

She threw another pensive glance over her shoulder at the silver car across the lot. The headlights were still on, blindingly bright. Something about that car was making her skin crawl, but she swallowed the questions she wanted so badly to ask. She knew that the more she pushed the more closed off Yoren would become. And Yoren had a tight fuse as it was.

Gendry had already grabbed their bags and closed the trunk when she felt him go still next to her.  She turned and looked up at his profile, his hair wet and spiky from the rain, and even in the night she could see the suspicion in his blue eyes as he stared at the silver car with some intensity.

The silver car was bothering him, too. She could smell it on him now. The night air was clearing up her senses.

Her bag felt heavier than she remembered it to be, but she carried in nonetheless. Gendry slid the keys into Yoren’s shaky hands. Yoren jerked his head down, leaned into Gendry, and whispered something in his ear, before opening the door to the driver’s seat and taking off.

Gendry turned around and looked at Arya but said nothing. He started to walk swiftly across the lot. Arya huffed. He barely said anything all night. And she decided to add it to the list of things that were frustrating her. Yoren wasn’t telling her anything, her father probably wasn’t telling her the whole truth either, her memory was coming up blank on that silver car, and she could barely walk straight as it was, with this heavy duffel bag she had strapped onto her shoulder.

“Do you think that car was following us?” she asked. She struggled as she tried to keep up with Gendry.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve seen it before. I know I have.”

The rain started to come down heavier and Arya felt a chill run through her, and then somehow… she was able to snap herself together. It suddenly became clear to her the pieces that felt blurry in the car. The rainy air cleared her senses, refreshing her mind. Although the pain in her hip was stinging badly, her thoughts took over and she could barely concentrate on the pain anymore. Her body subconsciously made the effort to walk the same pace as Gendry.

She tugged on his arm. “He used something,” she blurted out, dumbfounded at her realization.

Gendry’s head had appeared to be somewhere else as well. When he looked at Arya his eyes went straight from her dubious face to her hip. He blinked, remembering that she was injured. He slowed his walk down immediately.

Arya barely noticed. “Yoren used something on me! Doused himself with some sort of herb, a sedative.” It was making all too much sense now, and she felt like a fool. Her senses were blocked in the car for a reason, and Yoren did it knowingly, on purpose, to get Arya to the train station without a fight.

Gendry didn’t know what to say to her, so he just listened while they walked. She bit her lip and shook her head incredulously. She was annoyed with Yoren _and_ herself. How had she not caught on? Whatever he used to relax her must have been potent, because Arya didn’t feel anything when she got in that car.

Now she was wet and pissed off.

 They walked through the train station entrance where crowds of people were rushing in from the pouring rain outside. The air conditioning hit her wet face with a welcoming chill. She followed Gendry, who took it upon himself to lead them through the crowds. Instead of heading towards the platforms, Arya followed him towards the atrium and down a set of stairs. Arya didn’t know what to expect, so she chose to remain silent and let Gendry do what she assumed he was qualified to do.

She took her time down the stairs, trying to even out the balance of weight with each step. It proved to be more difficult than she imagined. The steps on her front porch weren’t much like these steps. And the bustling people on the stairs racing to get to their destinations didn’t help.

Gendry offered to take her bag for her to ease the strain, but she had no intention of giving him another huge bag when he was already carrying one on his back and another in his hand; and he was the one carrying the heavier equipment. Arya wasn’t going to have him carry her clothes, too. Her face felt hot but she kept her eyes on the steps and her hand on the railing, moving as quickly as she could. Gendry stayed by her side, and not one step ahead. When they reached the end of the stairs, Gendry looked around and ushered Arya further until she was face to face with the sign that pointed towards the the restrooms.

“The loo?”

Gendry did a swift double take behind them, and pushed open the door to the handicapped restroom. He nudged his head and gestured for her to follow suit. She went in with him and he locked the door.

“You’re in pain.”

She swallowed and leaned against the sink on the wall. “I’m fine.”

Gendry could see through the obvious lie and didn’t bother to add to it. He shrugged off his bags and they landed on the ground with two small thuds. He unzipped a side compartment that held a slim black case. He was in front of Arya in two steps.

“We have forty minutes to change your bandages and get on the train. It’ll be hours before we get to Paris.” Before she could protest, Gendry’s hand grabbed the duffel off her shoulder and it dropped to the ground without haste. Arya jolted back slightly out of surprise. She blinked and grabbed onto the edge of the sink behind her. She held herself up with her arms, and her body relaxed instantly at the weight being relieved off her leg.

From their proximity she could see Gendry’s wet face and shoulders. Arya was reminded again of how tall he was. Gendry towered over her in height, and his broad shoulders were an obvious indication that he could handle whatever you threw at him. He was strong.

But he couldn’t run as fast as her. That she knew for certain.

He unzipped the case, searching around its contents for a moment before finding the bandages and disinfectant. He pulled out a few cotton balls and the healing ointment Sansa gave Arya before they left.

Arya’s bullet wound was low on her hip, and it hit her suddenly that Gendry was _requesting_ to change her bandages. Before she knew what she was doing, Arya grabbed the cotton balls out of his hand and said, “I can do it myself.”

Gendry unscrewed the cap to the disinfectant and flicked his eyes up at her. He shrugged. “That’s fine. Just make sure to let it breathe before you put the bandage on it.”

Arya took the disinfectant and turned around to face the mirror above the sink. In the reflection she saw Gendry grab the envelope with the directions out of his duffel bag and lean back against the wall. He was reading whatever was inside of it, leaving Arya to tentatively unbutton her pants and tug them down her hip enough to get her old bandages off.

She expected her wound to be half-healed when she pulled away all the layers of blood soaked gauze and bandage tape. It was expected when you were part wolf. The ability to fight off infection and heal quickly came with the trait. But it didn’t take away the physical ache of healing, which was a fact Arya was acutely aware of at the moment. There was always a significant amount of hurting that followed the healing process, making it all the more painful. The pace was always too fast for Arya’s liking; there was nothing soothing about feeling your skin pull itself tightly back to where it once was while your body produced blood cells at a faster rate than normal. Feeling herself heal was one thing Arya wished she did not have to go through.

Slowly, she peeled off the bandages, and then stared at her hip once her open wound hit the air.

The bloodied area where the bullet pierced through her skin was significantly smaller, which was a good thing. But the original bruising she had around the area… it hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had turned darker. And the veins under the surface of her skin had blackened, growing lighter and lighter as it spread itself out like a spider’s web, away from the wound.

The sight of it made Arya worried. Her best guess was that there was something in that bullet that did something to her. She had never been shot at by someone who wanted to kill her before. She didn’t know how things like this were supposed to go. At least, for her. Arya didn’t feel strange, didn’t feel woozy or lightheaded. She didn’t have any symptoms that would have lead to her think something like this would happen.

There was a loud silence that rang against the four walls of the handicapped bathroom. It took her a moment to hear it. Her eyes were too busy tracing the dark veins under her skin. Following the way they broke out across her skin and faded until she couldn’t see them anymore.

She turned her head. Gendry was right behind her, paused. His face looked somewhere between confused and fascinated.

“My body’s trying to heal. I… think there was something in the bullet.”

Gendry’s hand twitched. He stood up straight and exhaled. “Is it bad?”

“I don’t know what it means,” Arya said quietly. “I guess I’ll have to ask about it when it’s okay to call someone.”

Five minutes later, her wound was cleaned, treated, and re-bandaged. She carefully tugged her pants up and zipped them closed. Gendry had been kneeling across the bathroom floor, going through the duffel bags and readjusting so that Arya’s bag held most of the lighter items.

The pistol Uncle Benjen gave Gendry was lying next to him. In her mind, she saw Yoren whispering into Gendry’s ear before he took off out of the parking lot.

“How are you going to get that through security?”

Arya’s voice snapped Gendry out of his concentration. His shoulders looked tense.

 “Yoren has connections with one of the guys working in customs,” Gendry answered, standing up. “He’s got it taken care of for us. We just have to be careful.” His tone implied that she didn’t have to worry about it.

He hoisted the two larger duffel bags up on his shoulders and reached for the handgun. He ejected the magazine, counted the ammunition, pushed it back up, and pulled the barrel back with a sharp click. He lifted his shirt up and tucked the pistol into the waistband of his jeans.

Arya thought about how it would feel to hold a gun in her hand. She had never picked up any of Jory’s things, never figured out the code to her father’s special closet, never knew what it was like to pull a trigger. She could have named every part and described its design to anyone who’d asked, but she had never truly held a gun in her hands herself. Her father had strict rules about such serious weapons, which was fine with Arya. She understood why he didn’t want her near any of their equipment. They were not there to be glamorized.

They were not a normal family. Tradition and loyalty and honor had kept them alive, and well respected. But, she was always curious.

The only defensive weapons she knew how to use were kubotan knives, wooden staffs, wristblades, and the like. Jory would always spar with her, and whenever Robb was home, he’d help her with her kickboxing. It wasn’t like they’d pushed her to be so involved in fighting like she was – they were just the activities she liked to participate in. She liked martial arts, running, and sparring. She enjoyed athletics. Granted, she wasn’t built to scale a burning building like Gendry probably was, but she had her strengths.

While waiting in line for customs, Gendry did exactly what Yoren told him to do. There was nothing but solid eye contact followed by a blink, and then head of security was passing them through without a word. There was a small exciting jolt that ran through her when they walked away from security without any problems. It reminded her that everything was still happening. That this was real life. And then she thought about it for too long and it made her sad again.

Their train tickets were first class. Or at least, she figured as much when she saw how the cart itself was separated from the other carts on the train. It was the same size as the others, but it held only enough seats for twelve people. It was sort of bogus when she thought about it, but it was spacious and built for comfort, which she desperately needed. She didn’t have it in her to complain.

There were only a handful of passengers around them – some of them on their electronics and some of them getting ready to nap. As soon as she slinked herself into the soft ivory cushions of her seat, she felt a sudden relief warm itself down her legs and to her toes.

They were seated next to the window, Arya facing the direction of the city they were leaving behind. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been on a train, but she knew it wasn’t anything like this. She realized how much she took for granted the small pleasure of having a well cushioned bum. Because it felt like heaven.

She relaxed into her seat as Gendry leaned forward to put their things in the overhead compartments. His damp shirt rode up a bit, and Arya saw the gun again. Her tongue itched to say something.

Arya stared out of the window as the train took off moments later. She stared at the view as it slowly retreated by the second. She thought about her father, her mother, little Rickon. She thought about Sansa’s great hugs. Bran’s quirky eyebrow. The way Jon laughed when Jory outsmarted Robb at chess. The way Robb’s eyebrows would crinkle when he smiled.

It was going to take some getting used to. Being so far away from them. Even if she felt alone most of the time in that huge house, they were still part of her home.

A man in uniform came in to check their tickets. He had a boxy hat on and his tie was dark navy blue. He was taller than Gendry, but much lankier. He seemed too animated and out of place in the train cart. He pulled out a hole-puncher and began making his rounds.

Gendry seemed up and focused and acutely aware, which Arya noticed when she realized how heavy her eyelids were. She felt it was the perfect time to let her eyes flicker closed for a bit of meditation. Gendry didn’t need her attention at the moment. She sniffed the air, and when all she smelled was the faint scent of lemon and public transportation, she sighed and let herself forget about her thoughts. She willingly pushed them out of her brain until her head felt blank.

She was getting used to the pain in her hip, and she felt her skin starting to sore. The sensation started to feel numb to her, but she did not allow herself to fall asleep. She focused on her breathing, repeating Jory’s words in her head. It was about focusing on everything but you, he told her. Concentrating on the body and being in control of every surrounding.

***

She must have been meditating for a while, because when she felt herself slipping into complete harmony, her body, for some reason unbeknownst to her, jolted her awake. Her eyes shot open.

Gendry felt her stir and looked up from the paper he was reading.

“What did I miss?”

He surveyed Arya. “The first two stops. We’ve still got a little more than two hours before Paris.”

She nodded idly, her mind completely clear. She felt energized and ready now.

“What did the envelope say?”

Gendry thought for a moment, and then folded his newspaper closed. He leaned over towards Arya and said in a low voice, “We’re renting a car and driving to a hostel. We’ll be staying for three days, and then someone will meet us and give us the next set of directions.”

“When can we call someone?”

“The paper didn’t say anything. The person we’re meeting in Paris probably has that information.”

She looked out of the window again. It was silent for a while. Gendry went back to reading his newspaper, and Arya tried really hard to find something out of the window to stare at. But everything she saw bored her. The train was moving too fast and nothing stood out to her. It was dark and raining and there weren’t any pretty lights to stare at.

She felt an ache between her shoulder blades and reached back to try to massage one of her shoulders. There was a part of her that was excited to see Paris. She wished they were under different circumstances, but that’s just the way it was now.

“Are you okay?”

She turned her head to look at Gendry. She knew what he was asking.

“I feel a little sore all over, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head slightly. “You need proper rest.”

“I’m rested,” she countered. “My body is just trying to heal. It’s taking all my energy away.”

She didn’t know how much Gendry knew of her situation, of how wolves healed. Of what she was capable of doing.

“Do you need anything?” He leaned forward again, his knees knocking into hers. There was a pinch of worry written on his face. It seemed as though the silence of the train ride gave him time to think too. He was supposed to be taking care of her now. It was his responsibility.

Arya was his responsibility.

She swallowed thickly. She looked into Gendry’s big blue eyes and put her hands back in her lap. She could sniff out some concern off of him, and to be honest, it surprised her. She didn’t expect him to be this involved. Well, she actually didn’t know what to expect from him at all. He was a stone wall before, and now he was the opposite. It confused her.

“I just want to talk to Jon.”

He sighed, and reclined back into his seat. “I know you do. We’ll call him as soon as we can.”

The next hour went by quickly. They were already in France and the rain continued to pour heavily. Arya and Gendry took turns reading the newspaper, looking out of the window, and ordering snacks.

Arya stared at the gun strapped on Gendry’s waist, where his shirt had ridden up again. He followed her eyes, took notice of what she was staring at, and pulled his shirt over it.

“What’s it like?”

His face became stone again. “What’s what like?”

She kept staring at the gun even though she couldn’t see it anymore. “Shooting a gun.”

When Gendry didn’t respond, her eyes fluttered up to meet his.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she asked, hushed. There wasn’t a sound except for the rain smacking against the window and the high voltage metal screeching against the train tracks.

“Yes,” he answered.

 “How many?”

“Two.”

A train stewardess opened the door to first class with a loud bang. She rolled a beverage cart in. “May I offer you anything?” When her eyes landed on Gendry, she smiled between the two of them. Her face looked strained. Arya could smell the judgment coming off of her in waves.

“A water, please,” Arya responded, annoyed.

“And you, sir?”

Gendry just seemed passive when he said, “I’m good, thanks.”

The train reached its next stop ten minutes later, and a majority of the people in first class got off. They had one hour to go before they reached Paris.

Arya was working lazily on a Sudoku, sipping on her water, when Gendry spoke.

“How does it work? Your… condition?” He asked respectfully. He tilted his head towards her injury.

She quirked her eyebrow. “What do you wanna know?”

Gendry opened his mouth but then closed it again. He was finding it difficult to know what to ask. So he ended up with: “How does your body take care of itself? Can you anticipate things before they happen?”

He was asking about her instincts. And the way he was looking at her told her he was honestly interested.

Arya tilted her head knowingly. She found this amusing under the circumstances. “I can smell and feel certain things, sometimes. Emotions, usually. But it’s just a more heightened sense of instinct. I don’t mean to do it,” she shrugged. “It just comes with being able to track scent.”

Gendry stayed quiet, listening. “My, uh, condition…” she felt weird calling it that out loud, “rushes the healing process. But I haven’t been shot before, so I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”

 “Does it hurt?”

“Healing?”

“And shifting.”

She sighs. “Healing is different. I can feel my body healing but it still hurts. Shifting is more irritating than painful.”

He nodded slowly, taking in her words. “Do you have any control over it?”

“Yeah. For the most part. But during certain parts of the season… during the moon’s rising, I feel more compelled to do it. Robb and Rickon run with me.” It was strange, having to explain this to someone that knew nothing about it. Having to describe to another person something that was just common sense should have felt annoying, but it didn’t.

They both fell into quietness again.

The spirals and squares in the carpet deemed themselves interesting to Arya, and she let her eyes follow the lines, shapes, and colors. She didn’t know what else to say to him, so she thought about the repetition in the pattern on the carpet and focused on that instead. She stared at it idly, long enough to find the break in the pattern where the shapes repeated themselves. A shiny black object was covering a red square on the carpet about three meters away. She stared at it.

 It was a black patent leather shoe. And it belonged to the leg of a gentleman whose face was hidden behind a newspaper four seats down. Arya wasn’t even aware he was there.

She rolled her neck and leaned her head back. The guy flipped the paper to read the next page, but she still couldn’t see him.

“Are you hungry?”

Gendry’s voice startled her.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled.

He was facing down with the papers in his lap, his fingers folding and rearranging so deftly that it looked almost elegant.  “We’ll get something decent to eat once we get off,” he said gently, closing the envelope and shoving it in his back pocket.

She couldn’t help but look at the guy reading the newspaper again. Not a beat later, he folded his newspaper and rested it on the seat next to him, finally letting Arya see his face. He had a strong jaw and a shaved head, with dark eyebrows and gray eyes. She recognized his face a little bit from earlier, when they first stepped foot in first class, but she didn’t recall him sitting there.

He looked at Arya and smiled. She stood up straighter in her seat and scratched behind her ear, under her beanie.

“I have to use the bathroom,” she said too loudly.

Gendry looked up from whatever he was doing and quirked an eyebrow. “Can you wait until we reach the station?” He asked, not taking lightly the idea of Arya going anywhere by herself.

Her eyes were still glued to Gendry when she felt the motion of someone getting up. Newspaper guy walked down the aisle and passed by Arya, going… where ever he was headed. He smiled at her again, showing a full row of white teeth.

The gesture did not go unnoticed.

Gendry’s face changed. He stared at the man’s retreating figure with a tight lipped expression, and continued to stare even after the newspaper man closed the door to the train car behind him.

“I have to go now.”

Gendry’s eyes snapped back to hers. “I’d prefer if you waited,” he replied, his voice clipped. They were now the only ones occupying first class.

Arya exhaled through her nose. She felt strange and annoyed at the same time. Something felt off.

Gendry couldn’t keep his eyes off of the door. He shook his head, eyebrows knitting together.

 “He wasn’t sitting there before,” he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.

“What?”

There was a pause, and then whatever inner scrutiny Gendry had going on in his head won, because he slid out of his seat and rose to stand.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you-?”

He motioned with his hand for her to stay put, and with her quick silence, Gendry started walking up the aisle. He approached slowly, as if he was contemplating something with every step he took.

Arya twisted her neck around just in time to see Gendry open the door.

Gendry barely opened it half way before an elbow came out of the doorway and collided with his face. Gendry’s head snapped back so far from the impact that he almost stumbled backwards and fell. It had happened so fast, Arya barely had time to register what was going on.

The newspaper man barged in, and tried to throw a punch towards Gendry’s face. And just like that, it took off, their velocity multiplying by the second. Gendry needed only a nanosecond to recover from the hit to his nose before responding to the man’s attempts. He dodged each fist easily, his body moving with a surprising finesse. Gendry ducked a third time before grabbing the man’s wrist. In one fluid motion, Gendry twisted it, and sent his other palm up to the newspaper man’s nose with a sickening crack. The man grunted in pain and raised his other hand to strike him, but Gendry was too quick.

Gendry sunk a knee deep into the man’s gut, causing him to grunt loudly and stumble. Gendry kept a firm hold onto the newspaper man’s shoulders, and craned his neck back enough to spit out the excess blood that had gotten into his mouth. His nose continued to gush red as he punched the newspaper man square in the face. Everything was moving so quickly that Arya didn’t even know where to start or what to do or how to feel. Arya could hear nothing but their grunts and shouts mixed with the wet screeching from the train tracks, and she was heaving labored breaths, backing away and stumbling over seats.

The blood was pumping like crazy in her veins and she couldn’t remember the last time she had a panic attack or if she was even having one now, because all she could focus on was the guy Gendry was fighting and there was blood everywhere and she couldn’t process a thing.

Newspaper man apparently also had an impressive recovery time, because it took him all of five seconds to gain enough strength to retaliate. He shoved at Gendry with his whole body, making him fall backwards down the aisle and sending them both to the ground. And just like that, everything slowed down around Arya. It was as if the pause button had been hit, and then broken, leaving everything in orbit.

The more Arya breathed through her nose, the more shock her body absorbed. The fear in her began to subside little by little as she stared at the two men in front of her. And then at the stranger who had attacked Gendry out of nowhere.

The situation happening in front of her eyes became easier to handle with every deep breath she took. She could feel the rumbling start in her chest as she held onto the seats with a deathlike grip. Before she knew it she was standing. She tried to control her breathing, but she didn’t fight it. She felt the inevitable as soon as the muscles in her back started to tighten.

He had two hands around Gendry’s throat, pinning him down. He raised his arm, ready to beat a heavy handed punch into Gendry’s face, when Arya caught the sight of his ring. It was gold and square, with a single teardrop shaped gem set in the middle. It was a deep dark raspberry color.

Arya felt the vibrations from her chest travel up her throat. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, her body shook. This was going to be a loud one.

She opened her mouth and let out a very deep, very dark growl that sent both men to an immediate standstill. The man hovering above Gendry sat frozed, his fist paused in the air, as he looked up at Arya, completely stunted. His face looked blank, which turned into confused, and then turned into frightened. Arya could sense Gendry’s eyes were on her, too, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. She continued to bar her teeth at the man on top of Gendry and narrowed her eyes at him.

One, two, three heartbeats later, Gendry wound his hands behind the guy’s neck and brought his head down to meet his. He headbutted him, hard. Gendry blinked back a few tears of his own from the impact, and lifted his legs up to shove the man off of him. He winced as he made to stand, grabbing onto the seats half-heartedly while he got up. His mouth formed into a frustrated frown as he did so, exhaling heavily through his nose.

Arya didn’t break eye contact with the man until she felt she was sure he was knocked out cold on the carpet.

Realizing she hadn’t moved a muscle, she relaxed her grip on the seats. The welcoming cramp that shot up through her fingers didn’t last long. The train cart was quiet again. The sights of Paris began to reveal around them, the city lights illuminating the windows. They’d be reaching their destination in a matter of minutes.

Arya raised her head up to meet Gendry’s eyes, expecting something and nothing.

His reaction, however, wasn’t the one Arya was expecting.

Gendry stood in front of her, dark red stains on his shirt, blood dripping down his face, mouth probably still full of blood, hair a little disheveled –  and he stared. He stared with such intensity that it took Arya back.

She rolled her shoulders and stood up straighter, relaxing her arms at her sides. She stared back at Gendry; see if she could decipher what he was thinking. His mouth was open slightly, his jaw slack. There was no tension in his face at all. A moment passed and then it finally clicked in Arya’s head what the expression on his face meant.

Gendry Waters wasn't freaked out, or scared. He didn’t look angry, disgusted, or upset. No, not at all.

Gendry’s face looked… _wondrous_.


End file.
